Thorny Situation
by shadow0night
Summary: The brothers are on the hunt for a werewolf and get more than they expected. Warning for the faint of heart: the Implala gets targeted and slightly harmed. Takes place after the episode, Jus in Bello.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Supernatural or any character from the show, Supernatural. They belong to Kripke and crew. I'm also not getting any financial benefits, by posting this story. No copyright infringement is intended.

Pearleen sat in front of her computer. She stared at the blank screen, which seemed to taunt her inability to decide what she wanted to type. As a journalist for the local paper, her job was to inform the community of the news and local happenings. Yet now, she found herself at a loss for words… although perhaps being a little more accurate, she was at a loss for words that the readers would actually believe.

She had personally experienced and witnessed part of the story and still she had trouble fully believing that what she had experienced had been real. Had she questioned a source and that source had recounted a story like this, she simply would not have even wasted her time taking any notes. She would have immediately decided that the person was a) drunk, b) high on some type of drug, or c) suffering from some medical or psychological problem that caused one to lose touch with reality. Pearleen never would have believed anything like this was actually possible… until now.

Pearleen worked for the local paper, which was printed twice a week, Sundays and Wednesdays. She had grown up, in town, with plans on becoming a big shot journalist for some nationally published periodical. But as is true for most people, she grew up and those big dreams of hers never came to fruition. Instead, she found herself as one of the two paid journalists, for the local paper. Although, many people probably wouldn't feel that her articles qualified as "journalistic" quality and would probably just call her a reporter or something along those lines. And while she did pride herself on her work and strove to provide the readers with quality coverage, she knew that none of her work would ever earn her a Pulitzer.

Now as she contemplates what she will report, she recalls how this all started and the two men, who saved her life.

/SN/

The paper's office was just across the street from the Sheriff's station. Due to the town's size, it was just the Sheriff and two part-time deputies. On an average day, the paper's office tended to be busier than the Sheriff's office. As a result, the Sheriff tended to spend most of his time with Pearleen and the other reporter. If you asked the Sheriff, he would tell you that he spent his time at the paper, because he liked to have a finger on all the happenings and going-ons of the local area. When, truth be told, he was mainly bored and was tired of getting calls about another loose cow meandering down the road and slowing down traffic. The vast majority of his calls were about stupid things that people could probably handle themselves, but they just didn't feel like dealing with it and decided to just let the Sheriff handle it for them.

Pearleen liked Sheriff Stanley. He was a very likeable guy. He rarely raised his voice, and most of the time when he did, he raised it because the person he was talking to had forgotten to replace the batteries in their hearing-aids. He was in his early sixties. Years back, he had been in the marines; but now, showed no signs of being in top physical shape. Just the previous year, he had lost his wife to cancer. He had two grown boys, who lived with their own families, in a nearby city. He spoke to them almost daily and was visited by them at least once a month.

Pearleen had been seated at her desk, while Sheriff Stanley sat on the desk across from hers. They had been discussing the birth of a local store owner's twin grandchildren. Pearleen was planning on doing a cover story about the birth, for the next two editions of the paper. The birth was a big deal and the whole town was buzzing about it.

Without any warning, a car came to a screeching stop, in front of the Sheriff's office. As one, Pearleen and Sheriff Stanley stood up and headed to the front bay window, to see what was going on. They observed the driver jumping out of the car, before the car even came to a complete stop. The frantic man began to head to the Sheriff's office; but upon noticing that no lights were on inside, he abruptly turned and headed across the street to the paper's office. Sheriff Stanley quickly opened the front door and walked onto the sidewalk.

"Jeez Jack, what do you think you're doing driving like that? The school bus will be coming down the street soon and you can't be driving like you're the only car on the road!" Sheriff Stanley berated the driver.

Jack came to an abrupt halt as he joined the Sheriff on the sidewalk. Not even acknowledging Pearleen who was now standing in the doorway, Jack gasped for air, as though he had forgotten to breathe at some point.

"Sher… Sheri… Sheriff." Jack seemed unable to catch his breath or say anything more. Instead, he grabbed Sheriff Stanley by the arm and attempted to pull him back towards the parked car.

Sheriff Stanley planted his feet firmly and grabbed Jack by both of his arms.

"Now Jack, you just stop and catch your breath. I can't help you, unless I know what's going on. Pearleen, why don't you fetch Jack some water to drink."

Not wanting to miss anything, Pearleen was very quick to fetch two bottles of water, from the fridge, and quickly returned to the sidewalk. She didn't want to miss anything and was relieved to see that Jack still hadn't managed to regain his voice. Sheriff Stanley took a bottle from Pearleen, twisted the top off and handed it to Jack.

"Jack, take a couple sips of this and tell me what's wrong. Your wife and kids are fine, right?"

Jack managed to nod his head yes, as he took a few sips of water.

"Is there a bad accident somewhere? Is some one hurt or dying?"

Until now, Jack had seemed to be recovering from whatever had come over him. However, as he heard the word "dying", his face turned pale.

"Not dying. Dead."

When Jack showed no sign of continuing and seemed to have become horrified by some memory, Sheriff Stanley put a comforting hand on his shoulder and considered what he should say next. In a low, soothing voice, he said, "Jack, I need you to tell me what's wrong. Just take your time and stay with me here. I need you to tell me what you saw."

Jack had gone deathly pale and seemed uncertain on where to begin. "I saw… there were… too horrible…" Jack paused for several seconds and then, shook his head in frustration.

"Jack, I need you to tell me what's wrong" Sheriff Stanley patiently said.

Pearleen remained quiet and choose to watch the interaction between the two men. She knew Jack and his family. Jack had also been in the military, and Pearleen could not recall a time when she had ever seen him raddled. Now as she looked at Jack, she wondered what could have caused him to be so ghostly pale and unable to speak intelligibly.

Jack looked Sheriff Stanley right in the eyes. "Sheriff, you better just come with me, and I'll show you. And, you'll probably want the deputies too."

Sheriff Stanley noticed the amount of effort it had taken Jack to collect himself. He also knew that Jack was a strong man and wasn't faint of heart. Whatever Jack had seen must be really bad and needed to be taken seriously.

"Pearleen, go to the garage and tell Walt that I need him on duty. Then, I want you to call Leo and tell him that I need him on duty, as well. Jack, you come with me, back to my office, while we wait for the boys to arrive" With that, Sheriff Stanley began to walk back to his office and looked back over his shoulder only once, to make certain that Jack was following him.

Pearleen turned to her left and began to heads towards the garage, which was only a half block away. She wasn't totally surprised to see Walt walking towards her.

/SN/

Walt had been working on a car, in the garage, when he had heard the car screech to a stop. He had exited the garage port and had watched the interaction between Sheriff Stanley and Jack, from a distance. He noticed how pale Jack was and how upset he appeared to be.

Walt heard his dad, the owner of the garage, come up to him. "What's going on?"

"I'm not sure. You ever seen Jack so upset?"

"Nope. That man is rock solid. I hope nothin is wrong with his family."

"Me too."

The two men stood there and watched the other two men. Walt respected Sheriff Stanley and knew that the man knew how to do his job. Walt had seen the Sheriff control a drunk without raising his voice or using any physical force. Despite his own curiosity, Walt knew that he just needed to let the Sheriff do his job. As he saw the two men crossing the street, Walt decided to go talk to Pearleen and ask what was gong on.

/SN/

"Pearleen, what was that all about?"

"Sheriff said to tell you that you have to go on duty. I'm not really sure what Jack saw; but whatever it is, he can't talk about it. However, he is willing to show you guys. Sheriff told me to get you and Leo and tell you both that you're now on duty. Want me to tell your dad that you're on duty; so, you can head over to the office?"

"Yeah, thanks. Although, I'm sure my dad is watching this and can figure it out himself, once he sees me heading over there." Walt said with a smile.

Pearleen smiled back and nodded her head in agreement. "True. But, it doesn't hurt to make it official."

Walt gave her a quick grin of thanks and crossed the street. Pearleen headed back into her office and went to her desk. First thing she did was call Walt's dad and let him know that the Sheriff needed Walt on duty. She then called Leo. She was a little surprised, when he answered the phone and sounded as though she had just woken him up.

"Leo, it's Pearleen. Sheriff Stanley said to call and to tell you that he needs you on duty right now."

"Huh? Right now?" Leo asked groggily.

"Yeah sweetie, right now. Jack showed up just a short time ago and was beside himself. Something really rattled him. Walt is already at the Sheriff's office and they're waiting for you to show up, before they head out to investigate."

"Um, okay. Can you let the Sheriff know that I'll be there in twenty?"

"Sure, no problem." With that, Pearleen hung up. Taking a deep breath, she calmed herself and forced herself to focus. It surprised her how quickly the day had turned from dull and boring to unexpected and exciting. Grabbing a small note pad and pen, she quickly stuffed them into her pant's pocket. She then went over to the Sheriff's office. Upon entering the office, she saw three pairs of eyes focus on her.

"I spoke to Leo and he said that he'll be here in twenty minutes."

"Twenty minutes?" Sheriff Stanley looked at his watch and shook his head. "Jack, can this wait that long or do we need to head on over right now?"

Jack put his head down, took a deep breath, and appeared to be steeling himself for what he would be facing again. "It can wait a bit. It's off the road and I doubt any one else will be stumbling upon it, any time soon."

So, the four of them sat there and waited. Walt messed with some stuff on and in his desk. Pearleen sat quietly and glanced over papers, which were posted on the bulletin board. Jack stared at the floor and Sheriff Stanley kept a concerned eye on Jack.

Leo showed up and seemed a bit surprised that they had actually waited for him. While the others seemed glad by Leo's arrival, Jack's shoulders slumped, as he realized his brief respite from the horror had come to an end.

/SN/

Three cars came to a stop, at the side of a road, which wasn't far from Jack's home. Sheriff Stanley and Jack had been in the lead car, followed by Walt and Leo in a cruiser. After making a quick stop in the paper's office, Pearleen had been quick to get into her car and catch up with the other two. The Sheriff hadn't told her not to come, although he also hadn't said that she could. But, she knew there was a story in this and decided to find out what she could. After coming to a stop, everyone exited the vehicles. Walt, Leo, and Pearleen joined the Sheriff and Jack at the edge of some nearby woods.

Raising a shaky finger, Jack pointed to a path into the woods. "Just follow that. It's about thirty feet in and on the left hand side."

Sheriff Stanley looked at Jack. Taking in Jack's pallor and recent behavior, he decided not to have Jack take them to the location himself. "Jack, you stay here at the car. Pearleen, you hold back a bit and let us do our jobs." With that Sheriff Stanley turned and headed down the directed path, with Leo and Walt close behind. Pearleen waited a few seconds, before she too headed down the path.

Spring had just started. There was still a bit of a chill in the air. The trees and bushes had yet to get buds on them, which allowed one to see a little more easily through the underbrush that surrounded the path. However, as Sheriff Stanley led his men, he realized that sight wouldn't be his first sense to notice the horror. Instead, it was his sense of smell that noticed the coppery smell of blood. Intuitively, he stopped breathing through his nose and began to breathe through his mouth. From behind him, he couldn't help but hear a short gagging sound, which had come from one of his men. Despite the assault on their olfactory systems, the men proceeded in silence and were preparing themselves for whatever they might encounter next. After just a few more feet, the three men were able to see what had caused a strong, steadfast man, like Jack, to become pale and shaken.

Just as Jack had directed, a very repulsive exhibit lay to the left side, of the path. Sheriff Stanley was the first to come upon it. He was quick to direct his men not to leave the path, as they all took in the gruesome scene. On first glance, one noticed the dark red that decorated the area. It looked as though a big paintball had been dropped onto the site, and upon impact with the ground, had painted the area with a rusty-colored dye. As one continued to scan the area, the shredded remains were the next thing to catch one's attention. From where they stood, the men could tell that the viciously, pulverized remnants had once belonged to a person. At the moment, they were baffled by what could have caused so much damage in such a confined area. A mulcher or a similar piece of farm equipment could easily have caused the destruction, which they were currently assessing. However, due to the proximity of foliage, it would have been impossible to get large equipment like that to this site, which was obviously the place at which the actual event had occurred.

As Pearleen began to approach the men, she felt herself beginning to gag, due to an awful stench. As a child, she had once visited an uncle, who owned a butcher shop. The dreadful smell, which now assaulted her, reminded her of the odor that had existed in the room, where her uncle had chopped and prepped the animals and their meat, which he would sell in his shop. Raising a hand to cover her nose, Pearleen took a few deep breathes through her mouth and proceeded to where the men stood. Following their gaze, she was totally repulsed by what she saw. The first thing she noticed was how splotches of dark red seemed to adorn all the foliage and ground. The next thing she noticed was the pulverized remains of what might, at one time, have been a person. Although she had brought a camera with her, she knew that she would not be taking any pictures of this carnage. In fact, she had no desires to be a witness to the scene any more and began to walk back to where Jack was.

"Pearleen," Sheriff Stanley called her.

Not turning around, she came to a stop on the path. "Yes Sheriff?"

"I don't want to see any of this in the paper. Just say that an unidentified body was found. If I have an ID before the paper is printed, I'll let you know." Pearleen just nodded her head, in acknowledgement of his remark. She feared that if she opened her mouth that the bile, which had slowly begun to creep its way up her throat, would come spewing out.

Pearleen joined Jack, at the cars. They silently waited. Neither said a word nor did they even look at each other. Each had been affected by what they had seen and smelt. As a reporter, Pearleen knew that she would have to mention this in the paper. As a God-fearing, Sunday-going church parishioner, she wondered what could have done something so horrific. She had heard about animal attacks, on TV; but to her knowledge, there were no animals around here that could have done something like that. She had heard about horrific crimes that some people were capable of; but, this was a small town and she could think of no one who might even be capable of committing such a vicious act. After waiting about fifteen minutes, the two were joined by Sheriff Stanley.

"You two head back to town. Jack, you can wait for me, at my office. I'll join you within the hour and you can give me your statement. Pearleen, I don't want you to mention this to any one. I want a tight lid kept on this, until we know what really went on here." Sheriff Stanley looked at them and saw that he had been understood. Turning around, he headed back into the woods.

/SN/

As instructed, Pearleen and Jack returned to town. Pearleen parked near the paper's office. As she was about to head into the office, she noticed a black car parked in front of the Sheriff's office. She saw two men, in suits, looking into the dark office. One man noticed Pearleen observing them and started to cross the street. Up until now, Jack had remained quiet. However, as he noticed the man crossing the street, he regained his voice.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes, we're looking for the Sheriff. Do you know where we might find him?"

"He's busy right now. But, I expect him to return to his office in about an hour."

"Ok, thanks." With that, the man turned and headed back to the black car. Pearleen and Jack looked at each other and shrugged. Pearleen went into the paper's office and Jack decided to wait for the Sheriff in his office.

/SN/

Sam had gotten back into the car, before Dean returned from talking to the man. Dean opened the driver side door and got into the Impala. Taking a deep breath, Dean weighed their options. They were hard pressed for time. They only had a couple days left, before their time window would close for another month. They needed to find this girl; but, they had a lot of ground to cover. She had either come to this town or one of another ten towns. Yesterday, they had managed to check five towns without any success. Since this girl would definitely stand out in any of these small towns, the brothers had decided that simply asking a local police officer and one or two other locals was probably the best way to see if the girl had made an appearance in town. It also allowed them to quickly check each town off their list. They had considered the fact that a person might lie about seeing her; but since there was so much ground to cover, they really didn't have a choice. An hour was a long time and Dean wondered if they could afford to wait that long. They had already questioned two locals about the girl and were told that no one had seen her. Dean glanced at his watch and decided that they would move to the next town and come back later in the day.

Without telling Sam of his decision, Dean started the Impala and headed towards the next town. Sam simply made himself comfortable, in the front seat, since it was obvious to him that Dean had already decided on their next course of action. As they drove down the road, Dean noticed the Sheriff's car and a cruiser parked on the side of the road. Dean was thankful for their good fortune of coming upon the Sheriff, on their way out of town. Pulling the Impala off the road, Dean came to a stop, in front of the Sheriff's vehicle. The brothers got out of their car and looked around. Dean noticed a foot path, which had recent footprints on it. He was about to suggest that they head down the path, when he saw a man coming down the path towards them.

"Can I help you gentlemen?"

Dean spoke up. "Yes, we're looking for the Sheriff. I'm FBI Agent Dean Friday and this is Agent Sam Miller. Do you know where we might find the Sheriff?"

"You're in luck. I'm Sheriff Stanley. What brings you two to this neck of the woods?" Sheriff Stanley continued to walk, until he reached his car. The brothers also joined the Sheriff at his car.

"We're looking for a girl." Dean pulled a picture out of his pocket and handed it over to the Sheriff. "She hasn't done anything wrong. But, we think that she might have some information we need for a case, which we're working on. Have you seen her recently, like within the past few days?"

Sheriff Stanley took a good look at the picture, before he handed it back to Agent Friday. "I may have found her for you."

Dean noted the tone of the Sheriff's voice and wondered what the Sheriff would say next. However, before the Sheriff was forthcoming with what he knew, he asked, "What kind of case are you working on?"

Agent Miller answered, "Murder. We think that she might know something about a couple murders. We don't know if she witnessed the murders; but, she may have been in the area, when the murders were committed. Like my partner said, she hasn't done anything wrong. We just need to know what she might know or possibly have seen."

"I hate to tell you boys this; but, I'm afraid she might be dead."

"Might be?" Dean asked.

"Look. My men and I are here investigating some remains that were found. Identification is going to be a bit tricky, since the person was more, less ripped to pieces. In that picture, your girl 's got pink hair. Tufts of pink hair are mixed in with the rest of the parts. I noticed your girl 's got a tattoo on her right arm, of some lines. I had noticed that some skin appeared to have part of a line tattoo on it. Don't ask me about the face. That is so mutilated that I highly doubt any ID can be obtained from it. Whoever did this went to town on the face. All the teeth are broken and the skull reminds me of a pumpkin that's been smashed by a sledgehammer." Sheriff Stanley shook his head as he recalled details of the gruesome scene.

"'Whoever did this?' You're certain that it wasn't an animal," Dean asked.

"Definitely not an animal. The rage that went into this attack could only be done by a person. I didn't see any teeth marks or any signs of an animal being involved. In fact, I noticed that all the body parts were at the scene and I'm sure that, had an animal done this, it would have either eaten part of the body or at least, dragged some part of it away. No, it had to be a person who did the destruction I saw. These murders, you're looking into, were they real grisly? Were the other victims mutilated beyond recognition? Or, do you think this girl might have paid a heavy price, because of what she knew?" Before either man could answer, the Sheriff shook his head and continued. "I'm sorry. I'm jumping the gun a bit. Here I am assuming the body I have, belongs to the girl you're looking for. It's just that I know no one, in town, has pink hair. And the timing of me finding the body of some one with pink hair and you showing me the photo of a girl with pink hair seems to be more that just a coincidence. I already called the coroner, and he should be here shortly. In the mean time, how 'bout I take you two to the scene." Not waiting for an answer, Sheriff Stanley headed back into the woods. After a quick glance at each other, Dean and Sam followed the Sheriff.

It wasn't long before the brothers noticed a putrid odor, which they were all too familiar with. Sheriff Stanley quickly introduced the FBI agents to his men, before he showed them the remains. Dean had seen some extremely horrific sights before; but the savageness of what he saw even surprised him. He inconspicuously glanced over at Sam and tried to gauge how well his brother was handling the scene. He proudly noticed that Sam gave no outward signs of beingadversely affected by the sight. However, Dean noticed a slightly different look in Sam's eyes and knew that he would need to keep an eye on his brother. Turning his attention back to the carnage, Dean scanned the area and tried to determine what had happened. He was aware of Sheriff Stanley and his men keeping their eyes on the 'FBI agents'. For appearance's sake, Dean knew they had to act as though they were feds and would have to hold off on pulling out the EMF meter and other supernatural assessing equipment until later. For the moment, Dean used his honed senses to examine the area. He had to agree with the Sheriff's assessment. No _normal_ animal had done this, although Dean wasn't ruling out some type of supernatural animal as being a possible culprit. After he and Sam had taken their time inspecting the area, Dean turned to Sheriff Stanley.

"This looks like it might be our girl. However, the other murders can't be compared to what we see here. If you don't mind, I'd like to stay in town a day or two and see if we can find anything else. Can you tell us where the nearest hotel is?"

"I don't mind you two hanging around a bit. If this is the same murderer, then you guys already know more than I do. I just ask that you keep me in the loop. About the hotel, you'll have about a forty-five minute drive from here, to get to the nearest one. There isn't even a close bed-n-breakfast. Look, forget about staying at a hotel, I have two spare rooms, which I don't mind you boys using. I have to get back to my office for a while; but, I'll give you directions to my place first." Sheriff Stanley spoke as though the two men had already agreed to accept his hospitality.

Dean was uncomfortable with staying at the Sheriff's place. As it was, he was already uneasy about the amount of time he and Sam had spent near the Sheriff and his men. But at the same time, they still needed to investigate further, and to leave and come back may not rest well with the Sheriff. This was the Sheriff's town and Dean knew that the man was probably not keen on the idea of having FBI agents in _his_ town. Dean also assumed that the Sheriff wanted to make certain that he could keep a close eye on their investigation.

"Sheriff, that's mighty generous of you. But, we wouldn't want to impose upon you, on such short notice."

"No problem at all. I have two sons and their families who stay with me often; so, I tend to keep the rooms ready for company. I'm sure you two want to wrap up your investigation here as soon as possible and by staying in the area, that will allow you to do just that." While Sheriff Stanley's tone remained friendly and polite, a hardness had appeared, in his eyes, as though he might become upset if the boys declined his offer.

Dean and Sam noticed the Sheriff's tone and facial expression. And although they weren't fond of spending much more time with the Sheriff, they realized that refusing the offer probably would not be a very wise choice. Dean politely accepted the offer and got directions to the Sheriff's house. The two brothers then went back to the Impala.

/SN/

"Dean, do you really think we should spend the night at the Sheriff's place?" Sam asked, as Dean drove them to the Sheriff's house.

"Sam, I really don't think we have a choice. You saw the guy. Had we said 'no', I think he would have shut us out of the investigation. Normally, I wouldn't mind that. However, I got the impression that Sheriff Stanley keeps a close eye on what goes on in his town and had we tried to run an investigation of our own, I think he would be very swift to run us out of town and keep us out. He seems like a no nonsense kind of guy to me. What I want to know is who or what killed our girl." Dean was perplexed by the condition of the girl, who they had been after. Had another hunter gotten to her first, Dean highly doubted that the hunter would have been that vicious with the girl's execution. That just left some supernatural thing as the executioner. Based on the carnage that had been left behind, Dean was concerned with what they were now up against.

Sam had been reviewing some notes and information that they had already gathered, while tracking the girl. A month ago, they had been on a hunt in a city, which was a four hour drive from where they currently were. They had been hunting werewolves and had come to the conclusion that this girl was the only one that they hadn't been able to catch. They had killed two other werewolves and as they had been cleaning up the house, in which they had finally caught the werewolves, the brothers had realized that there might have been one more. Sam had been the one to find a bus ticket receipt and a few letters. The letters hadn't specified what town the girl might go to; but, they had been able to conclude that they girl probably was in a town that was near the bus depot. It wasn't until the brothers had spoken to a clerk, at the bus depot, that they realized their search would be covering a lot more ground, since the girl had been seen hitching a ride from a truck driver. Hence, the brothers had found themselves in a bit of a time crunch, since they tried to quickly cover a lot of ground and during the period of a full moon. Since they didn't want to tip the girl to their search for her and wanted to confirm that she was a werewolf, the brothers had held off on their search until the current full moon had arrived. The last thing the brothers had expected was to find the girl horrifically dismembered. Now, as Sam reviewed the papers, in front of him, and recalled what had been found in the woods, he wondered if they were dealing with another werewolf or something else.

Dean brought the Impala to a stop, in front of the Sheriff's house. The house was on the outskirts of town. It was a colonial style home, with white trimmed windows. While the place lacked a white picket fence, the place did have a well maintained flower garden, in the front yard. The Sheriff had informed the boys on where he kept a spare key, near the front porch. He had instructed them to let themselves in and to make themselves at home. Dean and Sam had already grabbed their bags, from the Impala's trunk and made their way into the house. Sheriff Stanley had told the boys that the spare rooms were on the second floor. However upon entering the home, they left their bags in the foyer and wandered around the first floor.

Dean found himself in the living room and began to look at framed pictures, which were on display on a series of bookshelves that covered one entire wall. As his hand lightly slid across the pictures and the shelves, a feeling of melancholy came over him. Dean's mind temporarily didn't see what was before him. Rather, his thoughts recalled the world, which had been created by the djinn. Dean remembered seeing family photos, with his mom, his dad, Sam and himself. Dean recalled how warm he had felt, when he had seen his family as having a normal life. He fondly recollected that imaginary life and how nice it had been to see his mom and Sam so happy. Leaving that fantasy life had been extremely difficult and painful. Now, as Dean stood in the Sheriff's living room, Dean reminded himself that his one year was coming to an end and that he would soon be headed to hell. A part of him wished that he could once again return to the djinn-created fantasy world. He deeply needed to know that Sam would be safe and happy, after Dean's time had come to an end. Now as Dean contemplated the results of his deal, Dean wondered if he would be leaving Sam behind to a fate worse than death. Demons were out to get Sam and Dean's heart broke at the thought that he would not be there to protect Sam. Dean shook his head and brought his attention back to the current situation. He couldn't allow his thoughts and feelings to cloud his judgment. Taking a deep breath and centering himself, Dean then proceeded to the kitchen.

/SN/

Sam had been about to enter the living room, when he happened to see Dean lost in thought. Sam stopped in the doorway and watched his brother. He rarely saw Dean like this. Whatever Dean was thinking about had him a million miles away from here. While Sam wasn't a mind reader, he could probably guess that it had something to do with the deal Dean had made and the fact that the one year was swiftly coming to an end. Sam's heart grew heavy as he knew he was alive because of the sacrifice which Dean had been so willing to make – Dean's soul for Sam's life. Sam's heart grew heavy with the thought of losing Dean. Sam had told his brother that he would do whatever it took to save him and Sam had meant it. Sam was still willing to do whatever it would take. However, there was a problem. Sam had no idea on what the "whatever" was that needed to be done, in order to save Dean. Sam and Bobby had been working tirelessly to find a solution and yet, despite their efforts, no answer had been found. Sam watched Dean, for a few more seconds, then turned and went to check out the rest of the house. Sam had wanted to comfort Dean; but, Sam could not think of anything that would assure Dean that things really would work out for the best. Dean was not one to take comfort in false hope and had a low tolerance for chick-flick moments. So, with a heavy heart, Sam left Dean to his thoughts.

/SN/

After checking out the house and grabbing their bags, the brothers had each claimed a spare room. Although they were accustomed to sharing a motel room with each other, for the sake of appearances, they knew it was best to sleep in separate rooms, while staying with the Sheriff. Having taken some time to freshen up, the brothers made themselves a light dinner, in the kitchen. They had found all the fixings for roast beef sandwiches and found some potato chips to accompany the sandwiches. Taking their plates to the dining room table, the brothers sat down and discussed the case.

"So, do you think we have another werewolf or something else," Dean asked around a mouthful of roast beef.

Sam strategically averted his eyes from Dean's face; so, he would not have to watch his brother's grotesque eating habits. "I think it's a possibility. Although, I have no idea what would have caused such a violent out burst. Based on the condition of the remains, I can't help but wonder if there wasn't something more going on or something else involved."

Dean nodded his head in agreement. "We'll finish our sandwiches and then head back to the woods. By now, they've removed the body and are done doing their investigation. We still have a few more hours of daylight; so, we should be able to get a little investigation of our own done. The body was found on private property; but, I noticed that a park was across the street. Since the property owner was the one to report the remains, I doubt he did it or any one he knew did it. With the amount of privacy over there, had the owner or some one he knew had done that massacre, they could have easily hid the remains and no one would have been none the wiser about it. So, I'm thinking the culprit may have either used the road or the park as an escape route."

"What about the Sheriff?"

"You can leave him a nice little note, on the fridge and say something about us seeing him later tonight."

After finishing their meal, Dean left Sam to clean up the kitchen and dining room. Dean went to the Impala and did a quick check on their weapons. Since they weren't 100 positive that this was another werewolf, Dean wanted to make certain that they were prepared for anything.

/SN/

The brothers were not surprised, when they returned to the scene and found it deserted. Instead of parking on the side of the road where the body was found, Dean parked the Impala on the other side and made certain that foliage blocked it from being seen from the road. After grabbing some gear from the trunk, the brothers set out. Dean had spotted some tracks leading from the road, into the wooded park. Together, the brothers began to follow the tracks. About fifty feet into the woods, the brothers noticed movement to their left. Without a word, each brother began to approach the area, where the movement had occurred, from different sides. As Sam got to within a couple feet of the area, he noticed more movement to his right. Quickly, he turned and caught a glimpse of something. Swiftly, he took chase and tried to catch up with whatever it was he had seen. In some areas, the foliage was thick and Sam found himself having to use a great deal of effort to get through the growth.

Due to his focus on the target and his aggressive chase, Sam didn't realize what kind of foliage he had run into, until it was too late. Just as he had been about to enter a clearing, Sam realized that he had to push his way through some shrubbery. Since no leaves had made an appearance on the bushes yet, Sam didn't realize it was rose bushes until he felt himself painfully ensnared by the thorns. Fortunately, he had changed out of his suit, at the Sheriff's house. However, his jeans and long sleeve shirt could only provide minimal protection from the long thorns, on the rose bushes. Gently, Sam tried to ease his way out the bushes, the same way he had entered. But, the thorns would not release their hold on Sam's clothes. Just as Sam got himself free from some thorns, more thorns managed to make their way through his clothes. The thorns mercilessly caused jabbing pain over much of Sam's body. With how the thorns pricked him from all sides, Sam felt as though he now knew what it would be like to get hugged by a porcupine. Sam took a deep breath and tried one last time to free himself. He knew that Dean would be willing to help; but, Sam was also certain that Dean would probably find some way to poke fun at Sam for getting stuck in the bushes. Regretfully, Sam's efforts, to free himself, were unsuccessful.

"Dean?" Sam called out and waited for a reply. When none came after a few seconds, Sam called out again, "Dean."

/SN/

Like Sam, Dean had heard some movement, in the woods, and had taken chase. He knew that Sam would also be giving chase, just from a different angle. Their father, John, had taught them how to track and pursue things. The brothers knew that by keeping the targeted subject between them, that this increased their chances of catching it. Unfortunately, Dean came upon a steep slope, which was covered by fallen trees, and was forced to put more distance between himself and the target. Dean had to travel a farther distance around the impassable slope and this resulted in him having to move a farther distance away from the target, then he normally would have. He was very concerned that the additional distance and time, it took to circumvent the treacherous slope, would allow the target to easily evade him.

Fortunately, the target was unaware of Dean's pursuit and walked in front him, just ten feet away. Dean quickly made up the difference and came upon a teenage boy. "Hey, what are you doing here," Dean asked.

Startled, the young man turned too quickly to see who had addressed him and fell down. Dean stood just a foot away, from the boy, and watched the kid's uncoordinated movements. Dean quickly looked him over and noticed his dilated and bloodshot eyes, sweat that covered the boy's face, and tremors that seemed to travel over the boy's entire body. Dean had met his fair share of drug addicts and realized that he now faced another one. However, instead of showing signs of being high on something, this addict showed signs of withdrawal. Dean narrowed his eyes a bit and used a more authoritative tone of voice, when he repeated his question.

"I said, 'what are you doing here?'"

"I.. uh.. I.. uh.." The boy was frantically looking around, as though he expected his answer to suddenly appear nearby. He made no eye-contact with Dean and attempted to scramble back, across the ground, in order to put more distance between himself and the man before him. The boy had noticed Dean's tone of voice and was very uneasy with the possible direction of the interrogation. He had thought that some one had been behind him and was totally shocked to be confronted, by the man before him. His attempts, to distance himself from his interrogator, were being hindered by limbs that just couldn't seem to coordinate themselves with each other.

Dean continued to watch the boy haphazardly moving on the ground. The boy's movements caused the sleeve, on his left arm, to come up a bit. Dean noticed a portion of a tattoo reveal itself, on the boy's arm. Wanting to get a better look at the tattoo, Dean grabbed the boy's left hand and moved the sleeve up further. The boy anxiously tried to get out of Dean's grip; but, his attempts were fruitless. Dean saw that the boy's tattoo matched the tattoo of the dead girl. Dean released his hold on the boy's arm; but before the boy had time to celebrate his freedom, Dean grabbed a hold of the boy's shirt and dragged the boy to his feet. Using his grip to corral the boy, Dean pushed him against a tree and made certain the he kept his face just a few inches from the boy's.

Dean and Sam never had a clear idea on why the girl had come here. Their information had caused them to conclude that she was to meet some one; but who that some one was had been unclear. Seeing the boy sporting the same tattoo as the girl, Dean began to think that the two might have known each other. The tattoo was very simple. Three straight lines ran parallel to each other. One more straight line ran diagonally from one line, through the next, and then ended at the tip of the third line. The tattoo literally meant werewolf. Geek Boy Sam had been the one to recognize the meaning of the girl's tattoo and had been the one to tell Dean the history of it. At this point, Dean didn't really care about the tattoo. What he did care about was what kind of connection the girl and this boy had in common. Dean shook the boy a bit and made certain that boy was looking at Dean.

"What are you doing here in the woods? Are you looking for some one?"

"Uh… I… uh… I" The boy seemed incapable of coming up with anything else.

"Were you planning on meeting a pink-haired chick here?"

At the mention of the colored hair, the boy suddenly focused all his attention on Dean. That action let Dean know that he was on the right track. The boy's eyes seemed to clear a little and for now, the tremors seemed to subside a bit, as the boy concentrated on what Dean said.

"Tell me about the girl."

"Who's asking?" The boy replied defiantly.

Dean became somewhat enraged by the boy's tone, although he was relieved to hear the boy finally able to form a real sentence. "I am. And if you have a problem with that, I'm sure Sheriff Stanley would love to join in with this conversation."

The boy paled at the mention of Sheriff Stanley. The boy quickly shook his head and replied, "Uh, no need to bother him. What do you want to know?"

"First, her name."

"Pep."

"Pep?"

"Yeah, you know. Short for Pepto-Bismol. She kept her hair pink, like the color of Pepto-Bismol. She said life made her sick to the stomach and by dying her hair, she was creatively expressing her need to medicate herself from the disease called 'life'." The boy gave his answer as though he expected it to be quite obvious as to why the girl's hair would be pink.

"What's her real name? You know, the one her folks gave her."

"Don't know. I've only known her a few months. And, Pep is all she ever went by. Look, why all the questions? Is she in some sort of trouble?" The boy seemed genuinely concerned for Pep's welfare.

"A few more questions from me and then, I'll answer yours. Why was Pep coming here to see you? Did she live around here or have family here?"

"I don't know. We spent some time on the streets together. A week ago, she said that she had to go take care of something alone and told me to meet her here. She even drew me a map; so, I knew where in the park to meet her. Except, she hasn't shown up. We were supposed to meet around dinner time and she's a no show. Which is a total bummer, since she was supposed to bring some…" The boy paused, as he contemplated what to say. "stuff for me."

"Stuff? 'Stuff' meaning drugs? Or something else?"

The boy looked shamefully away and did his best not to meet Dean's stare.

"You're hurting, aren't you? How long has it been, since you had something? Were you two planning on getting high?" Dean saw that the boy had no intention on answering the questions. "Look, I could care less about the drugs and shit. I want to know why she came here. Was she meeting some one?" Dean watched for some type of response from the boy and got none. "What's your name?"

"Screw you! I've answered enough of your questions. Either let me go or go ahead and involve the Sheriff. Then, the two of you can compete to see who can ask the most questions." The tremors had returned to the boy's body and Dean could tell that the boy's attention was straying.

Dean weighed his options. The boy obviously was not going to say anything more. The tattoo, on the boy's arm, had Dean very concerned. The brothers had thought the girl may have been a werewolf. Could this boy be one as well? Or, was the tattoo just a tattoo and nothing more? Dean didn't want to take a chance on letting a werewolf loose. But at the same time, there were still a few more hours, before the moon came out and Dean wasn't sure of the best way to keep a close eye on the boy, until then. And, where was Sam? Dean knew that Sam had given chase and wondered where his brother had gone. Had Sam taken off after something else? Or, had something happened to Sam? Dean knew that Sam could take care of himself; but, Dean couldn't help but worry about his little brother. Dean highly doubted this boy had done anything to Sam; but what if the boy had an accomplice? Dean's stomach began to twist into a knot, at the thought that Sam might be in trouble. However, Dean couldn't look for Sam until he decided what to do with the boy. So, Dean decided to try a different tactic.

"Pep isn't going to show up. She was found dead this morning. Something did quite a number on her and if it hadn't been for her hair, she probably wouldn't have been identified." Dean watched the boy's reaction. The boy looked at Dean with disbelief.

"You're lying. She's not dead. You're just saying that cuz I wouldn't tell you anything more. Well, screw you! I ain't saying another word." The boy tightly closed his lips and defiantly looked at Dean.

Dean didn't have time for this. The boy was obviously hurting for another fix and showed no signs of caving in, to pressure from Dean for more information. In the woods, Dean didn't have many options available. He couldn't let the kid go, for fear that the boy might turn into a werewolf and hurt some one. But, there wasn't anywhere nearby that Dean could easily stash the boy, until the moon rose. Unexpectedly, Dean's phone rang. He grabbed it and checking the caller ID, saw that it was Sam.

"Sam."

"Dean. Uh, how's things going?" Sam asked halfheartedly.

Dean noticed Sam's tone and a knot, in Dean's stomach, seemed to tighten. Something was up and Dean wanted answers. "Where are you? Are you ok?"

"Well, that's actually why I'm calling. I… uh… kinda got myself stuck in some rose bushes." Sam shyly replied.

"What?!" Dean was fairly certain that he couldn't have just heard Sam correctly. How could his brother get stuck in rose bushes? Taking a deep breath, Dean calmed himself some, before he continued. "Where. Are. You?" Before Dean heard Sam's reply, the boy decided to take the opportunity to try and escape. The boy unexpectedly kicked Dean in his right knee and used his head to hit Dean in his throat. Not anticipating the boy to do anything, Dean wasn't prepared for the sudden assault. Dean dropped his phone and let go of the boy, as he stumbled back. The boy quickly darted off to his right. However, since the boy was going through drug withdrawal, his reflexes and coordination were off.

/SN/

Sam heard a scuffle coming from the other end of the phone. He was now concerned for Dean's safety and was upset at himself for possibly distracting Dean from a dangerous situation. With renewed effort, Sam tried to free himself from the impaling thorn. However, his efforts only resulted in the thorns penetrating his skin even more and causing dots of red to appear all over his shirt. Sam still kept his phone to his ear. He wanted to yell to Dean; but, decided that it was best to listen to what was going on. He could still hear Dean's voice, at times, and knew that, at least for now, Dean was still conscious and was managing the situation. Sam finally let out a breath, which he didn't realize that he had been holding, as he heard Dean pick up the phone and talk to him.

/SN/

Dean closed his phone and put it back, into his pocket. He had managed to subdue the boy and had tied him to a tree. Fortunately, the kid had been wearing a belt and shoes that had really long leather laces. Dean was able to improvise and used them to tie the kid to a tree. Sam had given Dean directions to his location. Since the boy had been knocked unconscious during the struggle, Dean decided to just leave the kid, go get Sam, and later, return for the boy. Before heading to Sam's location, Dean decided to head to the Impala for a few more supplies.

/SN/

Sam waited for Dean to arrive. He was sore and tired from his efforts to get out of the thorn bushes. His shirt was now red, from his blood which had been drawn by the thorns. Sam focused on taking shallow breaths, since deeper breaths caused the impaling thorns to stab him even more. Thankfully, Sam's height had kept his head out of reach of the branches, although at this point that seemed like a very moot point. He just wanted to be free from the thorns. He knew Dean was coming to get him out of this mess. He had heard the relief, in Dean's voice, when Sam explained the situation. While Dean still sounded concerned for Sam's safety, Sam could tell that Dean was relieved to hear that Sam's life was not in jeopardy. Sam closed his eyes and let out a small sigh of relief. He was comforted by the fact that Dean would soon be arriving to help him. At that moment, Sam's heart tightened as he painfully recalled that Dean's one year was quickly coming to an end and that soon, Dean probably would not be able to come to Sam's aid any more. Sam had promised to get Dean out of the deal. But, all of Sam's research and efforts had been ineffective. Dean had done so much for Sam and now, when Dean's soul was on the line, Sam just couldn't seem to find a way to save him. This was much different than the time Dean had been electrocuted and had suffered major damage to his heart. At that time, Sam had been distraught at the thought of Dean dying. Now, not only was Dean going to die; but, Dean's soul was going to hell. Sam knew that his brother didn't deserve to go to hell. Dean had saved too many people and stopped evil countless times. Sure, Dean may have broken some laws here and there and may not win a citizen of the year award. But, Sam knew that Dean was a hero and heroes should never go to hell. The pain that Sam now felt wasn't due to the thorns. Rather, the pain was from knowing that he was going to lose his brother and that his brother was going to pay an agonizingly high price for bringing Sam back from the dead. Sam was shaken from his thoughts, when he heard a branch break nearby. Sam quickly looked in the direction of the sound and was pleased to see Dean headed his way.

A smile had started to appear on Sam's face; but stopped about halfway. Sam noticed that Dean was approaching with a devious grin on his face and that Dean was twirling a small hatchet with his right hand. Dean was very good at playing poker and excelled at hiding his feelings. As Sam watched Dean approach and noticed that Dean was so openly expressing that something dubious was about to occur, Sam began to worry a bit about what Dean had plans for.

"Uh, Dean. Do you care on telling me what's up with the grin?"

"What grin?" Dean asked sheepishly, although he made no attempts to remove the grin from his face. Rather, the grin had grown a little wider and even his eyes had crinkled a bit.

"Dean? I'm serious. What are you up to?" Sam was fairly certain that Dean wasn't under the control of something supernatural; but, anything was possible. Dean just seemed a little too comfortable waving the hatchet around so freely. Sam assumed that Dean was just messing with him; but, he wasn't totally certain of that. That was until he saw Dean's face pale a bit, when Dean saw Sam's bloody shirt. Then, Sam knew that Dean really was Dean and had just been teasing his little brother.

"Sam, you told me that you were ok. I wouldn't consider a bloody shirt to be a sure sign of okness." Dean reprimanded his brother. His tone was laced with concern and his eyes quickly looked over Sam for more signs of injuries.

"It's just from the thorns. I tried to get myself out and the thorns just dug further in. It looks worse than it is. I won't even need stitches." Sam tried to console his brother. Dean seemed somewhat appeased; but, it was clear that Dean wouldn't be totally consoled until he had gotten Sam free and was able to get a better look at the injuries himself.

"Just hold still. I'll get you out in no time." Dean told Sam. For a moment, Dean looked Sam straight in the eyes and made certain that Sam knew that Dean was going to take care of the situation. Sam replied with a small smile and then, Dean went to work. Dean skillfully hacked the rose bushes, which imprisoned his brother. Dean painstakingly made certain that the cut branches did not harm Sam, as they fell to the ground. When Dean cut a branch which had a hold of Sam, Dean grabbed the branch, with a gloved hand, before he cut it and then as he cut it, he held the branch firm to ensure the branch's thorns did not cause additional harm to Sam. Once that branch was cut, Dean gingerly moved the branch away from Sam. As Dean did this, Sam remained stoic and expressed relief, once the thorns were free of him. After a short time, Sam noticed that Dean was perspiring from his efforts to painlessly free Sam from the bushes. Sam appreciated Dean's efforts to ensure that Sam suffered no additional pain. Sam knew that Dean would downplay any appreciative comments from Sam; so, he quietly contemplated how to reward Dean for all the hard work.

Finally, Sam was totally free from the branches. Dean wiped his arm across his face, as Sam stepped out closer to Dean. Dean put the hatchet on the ground and as he rose, said, "Take your shirt off."

"What? Here?'

"No, wait. Let me build you a catwalk and then, you can take a stroll down it and take your shirt off." Dean replied incredulously. "Yes, here. I want to make certain none of those things left too big a mark."

Sam dutifully but slowly raised his shirt. Scabs had formed in some places and he didn't want the bleeding to start again. Dean assisted with the shirt and also did his best to keep additional bleeding to a minimum. Once Dean got a look at his brother's torso, he felt a little better and helped Sam put the shirt back down.

"Dang, I can't believe I forgot it. Guess I'll have to wait until we get back to the Sheriff's place."

"What did you forget?"

"My pencil." Dean replied, as though it should have been obvious to Sam. "You've got a mean connect-the-dots pattern going on and I wouldn't mind seeing what picture appears, after they're all connected. Maybe, some naked chicks lying on the beach." Dean said with a mischievous grin and a rising of his eyebrows. "Wait, this is you. So, it would be something more like kittens playing with a ball of string or Strawberry Shortcake."

"Dean," Sam replied with a small huff, a rolling of his eyes and a shaking of his head.

"Come on princess. I have a prince charming who really wants to meet you." Dean stated this, with a mischievous smile on his face, and began to head to where the boy was tied up.

"Who?" Sam was confused about who Dean was referring to.

"The kid I ran into, before you called me. Turns out he knew our pink-haired girl. And, he's got the same tattoo as her." Dean continued to tell Sam about the boy and Dean's conversation with him, as the brothers headed over to the boy.

The brothers soon arrived at the location where Dean and the boy had scuffled. Dean immediately went to the tree, which he had tied the boy to. However, the boy was no longer there and all Dean found were sliced laces and the belt lying on the ground.

"Well, Dean. Where is this prince charming you've been telling me all about?" Sam asked, with a note of sarcasm in his voice. Dean shot him a venomous look, which would have killed most people. But, being Dean's brother meant that Sam was not going to die, although he would hold back on any more sarcasm for a bit.

Dean picked the laces and belt up. Examining them more closely, Dean saw that they had been cut. Before tying the boy, Dean had made certain that the kid hadn't had any knives or any other sharp objects on him. This meant that some one else had to have freed the boy. Disgusted, Dean threw the useless restraints back to the ground.

"Come on Sam. We might as well head back to the Sheriff's place and get you cleaned up. That kid and his friend must be long gone by now and I have no clue on where they might have gone." Dean began to head back to the Impala and only looked back long enough to confirm that Sam was behind him.

The walk, back to the car, was done in silence. While the brothers still needed to discuss what they should do next, the two had unspokenly agreed to hold off on that conversation. Dean was the first one to see the Impala.

"What the hell!!" Upon seeing the Impala, Dean quickly ran to the driver side, of his beloved car. "Who did this to you, baby?" Dean gently and caringly asked his car.

Sam had quickly joined Dean and stood speechless, as he too appraised the damage that had been done to the car. Bent at the waist, Dean slowly walked along the side of his car and delicately ran his hand over the scratch that had been heartlessly inflicted along the car's side. Dean gradually made his way around his car and carefully examined the car for additional harm. Whoever had damaged the car had limited the devastation to only one side. Sam remained quiet as he watched Dean inspect the car. The car was home, to both brothers. Besides Dean, the Impala was the only other constant in Sam's life. While Dean openly showed his extreme fondness for the Impala, Sam was more reserved with his. Although Sam was fond of the car, he felt that most of his fondness was due to the fact that the car meant so much to his brother. The car had already come close to being sold for scraps, due to an unfortunate encounter with a semi. However, Sam would not allow the Impala to land up in some junkyard. The car was important to Dean and that was all the reason Sam needed to ensure that everything was done to resurrect the car. Sam's efforts, to save the car, were rewarded as Sam had watched Dean meticulously work to rebuild the car. The ultimate satisfaction came as Sam watched Dean sit behind the steering wheel, drive the Impala, and sing along with his favorite music. Of course, Sam never let Dean know how happy he was as he watched his brother enjoy the restored car. Now as Sam watched his brother gently stroke the car's hood, his heart broke a bit, since he knew how much this bothered his brother.

"I'll get the son of a bitch who did this to you," Dean promised the Impala. "No one is going to lay a hand on you without having to answer to me." Dean paused, as though he waited for the Impala to show some form of relief. Turning to his brother, Dean said, "Sam, get in the car. We've got work to do."

Sam unquestioningly got in on the passenger side. He was uncertain what Dean meant by "work". Either his brother meant go after the person who damaged the Impala, fix the Impala, or go after whatever had killed the girl with the pink hair.

/SN/

By the time the brothers had returned to the Sheriff's house, the moon was out and lights were on, inside the house. The brothers exited the car and walked up the front sidewalk. Before they reached the front door, it was opened by the Sheriff.

"You gentlemen find anything?" The Sheriff gruffly asked.

"Nope. Just went for a walk in the woods," Dean replied. The Sheriff questioningly eyed Dean. However, upon seeing the condition of Sam's shirt, the Sheriff's expression changed. "What happened to you?"

"My partner here prefers to hug thorny rose bushes instead of trees," Dean replied sarcastically. "If you don't mind, I'm just going to help him clean up a bit, before discussing the case with you."

"There's a first aid kit, under the sink in the bathroom. If you need anything else, just let me know." The Sheriff stood in the foyer and watched the tired men ascend the stairs, to the second floor. Then, he went into the kitchen and put some coffee on. He wanted to know what the FBI agents had been up to; but, he was also concerned about the man with the bloody shirt. Once the men had had a chance to refresh themselves, he had every intention on questioning them for more information.

/SN/

Dean checked the Sheriff's first aid kit and found that it was adequately stocked. He closed the lid, on the toilet, and had Sam sit down. He watched Sam gently take his shirt off and throw it onto the floor. Then, Sam took a deep breath, as he prepared himself for what came next. Dean had already filled the sink with warm water and had grabbed a washcloth. Stepping back, Dean let Sam stand up, in front of the sink and wash his chest and abdomen. Then, Sam sat back on the toilet and let Dean wash his back. Sam probably could have washed most of his back himself; but due to the fresh wounds, he hadn't wanted to rub something too hard and get it bleeding again. After Sam's torso was washed and dried, Dean set to work treating the thorn marks. Fortunately, most of the marks weren't that bad. The bloody shirt had made the situation look worse than it actually was. Dean finally felt the knot, in his stomach, relax some, as he realized that Sam really was ok and hadn't suffered any serious injuries. He knew how painful thorns could be and knew that Sam had had a very painful experience. He was just relieved to see his brother relatively unharmed. Dean finished treating Sam's injuries and left the bathroom to get Sam a clean shirt.

Sam sat on the toilet and watched Dean leave the room. He let out a sad sigh, as he watched Dean walk away. Not much time was left for Dean's deal. Sam's heart tightened, as he thought about what was going to happen to Dean. While Sam painfully recalled his experience with the thorns, he knew that what he had endured was nothing compared to what Dean would encounter in hell. Sam closed his eyes and lowered his head, as the implications of his thoughts weighed heavily on his mind. Sam knew that he could have taken care of the injuries caused by the thorns himself. However, while he would never admit it to Dean, Sam chose to take this opportunity to spend some more quality time with his brother. Dean wasn't big on hugs and stuff like that. So, Sam took what he could get. And having Dean be the one to clean and treat the thorn marks meant that Sam got to feel his brother and was able to have his brother close to him. As Dean meticulously worked on Sam, Sam forgot about his injuries and instead, found himself focusing on Dean. He noticed how wrinkles appeared around his brother's eyes, as Dean focused on treating the wounds. Sam noticed how gingerly Dean's fingers inspected the wounds and how nimbly his brother's hands applied pressure and bandages to the wounds. Sam had seen these same hands savagely attack a supernatural thing and viciously defend an innocent person's life. These hands, that could so fiercely inflict pain, could also be so tender and gentle. The paradox did not just apply to Dean's hands; but, it also applied to Dean himself. Sam had seen both sides of his brother and knew that both of those sides sought to save people. Dean rarely did anything for himself. His sacrifices had been made to benefit other people, including Sam. As Sam sat there with his head hung low, he felt himself dying a little on the inside, at the thought of such a wonderful and caring person unjustly suffering in hell.

Dean entered the room and saw Sam with his head down. Dean also noticed that Sam's mood seemed to have changed and that something was bothering his brother. He had thoroughly inspected Sam's body and had not found any serious injuries. Dean had even inspected Sam's jeans and had noted that none of the thorns had actually penetrated the material. Dean quickly reviewed what they had recently gone through and could not think of anything that would cause his brother to appear so crestfallen. As much as Dean knew he probably needed to get Sam to talk, he also knew the Sheriff was waiting for them and didn't want to put that man off much longer.

"Sam, you ok?"

"Yeah." Sam raised his head, as he answered his brother.

Dean knew it was a lie; but, decided to postpone the interrogation. Instead, Dean tossed Sam the shirt. "Here. Put this on. Sheriff Stanley is waiting for us." With that, Dean turned and headed to the stairs.

Sam put the shirt on. Before leaving the bathroom, he took one last look in the mirror and made certain that he had his game face on. Then, he joined Dean at the stairs. With a quick look at Sam, Dean gave a quick nod of his head and together they went down the stairs.

/SN/

Sheriff Stanley waited in the living room, for the FBI agents to join him. He had some questions he wanted to ask them. He had been sickened by the sight of the horrible carnage this morning. If he was honest with himself, he was a bit fond of the idea of letting the feds handle this case. However, this was his town and he couldn't just have them putting their noses wherever they wanted to. He was also curious to learn where they had been and what had occurred to cause the one man to return all bloody. While the Sheriff waited for the men, he recalled that he had some bills that he had forgotten to mail earlier that day. So, he grabbed them and walked out to his mailbox. After placing the paid bills in the mailbox and putting its flag up, he glanced over at the classic car, which was parked nearby. He was more a Ford man himself; but, he did appreciate the style of the older cars. As he walked around the Impala, he noticed the fresh scratch that ran along the driver side. He shook his head, at the sad sight. Then, he went back into his house. He noticed that the coffee was ready and poured himself a cup. He returned to the living room and sat in an armchair. A few minutes later, the FBI agents joined him, in the living room.

"There's coffee, in the kitchen, if you want some." Sheriff Stanley watched Agent Friday glance at Agent Miller. Without a word, Agent Friday then went into the kitchen. Agent Miller sat down on the sofa and looked at the Sheriff.

"You have a nice place here."

"Thanks. I'm quite fond of the place. Me and the Mrs. fell in love with the place, as soon as we saw it and just knew, that this was where we wanted to raise a family." Sheriff Stanley got a sad smile on his face, as he mentioned his deceased wife.

"The Mrs.?"

"Millie. She passed away last year. She was a wonderful woman and did a fine job raising our two boys. That's them in the picture over there." Sheriff Stanley nodded his head towards a picture of two grown men, with an arm around each other and each holding up a fishing pole with a fish on the end. "I'm quite proud of those boys and now, they've got families of their own."

Agent Friday returned to the living room and gave a cup of coffee to Agent Miller. Agent Friday then sat down on a chair, as he took a sip from his cup.

"I've never known Feds to drive around in classics. Or, is that a leftover from a stakeout?"

"Actually, it's mine. I prefer something I can trust, instead of some piece of crap from the motorpool."

"I couldn't help but notice the fresh scratch on it. Did it too have a run in with a rose bush?" Sheriff Stanley watched Agent Friday bristle at his remark.

"No. Someone did it, while my partner and I were doing some investigating."

Sheriff Stanley realized that he might want to offer a peace offering, if he wanted these men to feel comfortable talking to him about the case. "Look, I've got room in my garage. If you want, you can pull it in and repair the scratch, while you're here. To me, it didn't look as though the scratch went into the primer. So, you don't have to worry about getting a new paint job. My son, Steve, loved working on cars and some of his stuff is still in the garage. I'm sure he wouldn't mind if you borrowed it, to fix up your car."

Agent Friday considered the Sheriff's offer. "That's mighty kind of you. I think I might just take you up on that offer. I hate leaving her in bad shape, of any sort." Agent Friday seemed to relax some, as he warmed to the idea of being able to get his car repaired promptly.

Until now, Agent Miller had sat quietly drinking his coffee. He chose this moment to speak up. "Sheriff, I was wondering if you might mind us asking you some questions. Like we mentioned earlier, we came here looking for a murderer; but, the one we're after was never quite so violent. I don't know if we're still on the same track or if we stumbled upon something totally different." Agent Miller hadn't asked a question. However, he stopped and waited to hear what the Sheriff's thoughts were.

"I don't know what to tell you. Until today, we hadn't had any murder here for over sixty years. Today, I get a viciously mutilated body and you two show up. So, I'm thinking there might be a connection." Sheriff Stanley shrugged his shoulders and looked at both of the Agents.

Agent Friday placed his elbows on his knees and held his cup with both hands. "Sheriff, we came here looking for a girl with pink hair. The murder victims, from our case, were beat up; but, nothing comes close to what happened to that girl. Either she royally pissed the killer off and he took it out on her, or we're dealing with some one different. I'm not sure which just yet. There wasn't much evidence left at the other crime scenes and from what I saw, the same applies to yours as well. My partner and I went back to the area and were checking out the park, across the street from your scene. I ran into a kid, who didn't come across as being a local. He had the same tattoo as the girl. I had hoped to question him some; but, he got away, before I had a chance. You or any of the other locals seen any one around town who didn't belong?"

"No. If some one was new to town, I would have heard about it. You said that he was in the park?"

"Yep. He said the pink haired girl told him to meet her there."

"But, there's nothing there but woods. A while back, there was a house; but it was torn down and the property was added to the park." Sheriff Stanley got a quizzical look, on his face, as he thought about what he knew. He turned his attention to Agent Miller. "You really got stuck in rose bushes?"

"Yes, sir." Agent Miller replied. He could tell that his answer held some significance to the Sheriff.

"Before the house was torn down, the owners had grown some prize-winning roses. They had a decent size rose garden. The house was torn down. But, there was never any need to destroy the roses; so, they were left to grow unkempt. In the spring, the roses are gorgeous and I know that many townspeople go to pick them, for their homes."

Agent Friday spoke up, "That boy I mentioned said that the girl had told him specifically where to meet her. I didn't see the directions she had given him; but, he was told to meet her around there. What can you tell us about the people who once lived there?"

Sheriff Stanley paused for a moment, before he answered the question. "Not much. The house had been owned by Mrs. Thornton. She got the place, after her grandfather passed away and left it to her. She lived there alone, for about thirty to thirty-five. She had an estranged son; but, he was out of the picture, before she moved into the place. She died from old age and left the place to her son. A few months after her death, he finally showed up with his wife and daughter. But, they didn't stay long. I guess they lived there for about four months and then they disappeared. Just poof. One day they're there and the next they're not. Didn't leave a forwarding address or anything like that. If that wasn't weird enough, the guy left strange directions on what should happen to the place. The property was all paid for and didn't have any liens on it. But instead of trying to have the place sold, he wrote a letter to the park service and told them that he was donating the property to them, on the condition that the house be torn down and no other structure be built on the land. After some lawyers confirmed that the request was legit, the service did as was instructed. It had been a really nice place and the guy could have gotten good money for it. Even as a donation to the park, that would have made for a nice tax deduction; but, I checked with the Rangers and found out that they were unable to give him credit for it, since they had no way to contact him and give him the proper papers. It just seemed so strange. No one's ever seen any sign of him or his family, since then…" Sheriff Stanley paused, as though something had just occurred to him. "Unless, that girl we found was the guy's daughter. I mean why else would she have some one meet her there. But, why would she even come back? She didn't have any family here. It doesn't make sense." He looked at the two Agents and saw that they were both lost in thought. He noticed that, at one point, they looked at each other as though they may have had a same thought and were nonverbally affirming an unspoken conclusion. He was about to enquire as to what was on their minds, when his phone rang. He picked it up and said, "Hello?"

The Agents silently listened in to the Sheriff's conversation.

"Gladys, just slow down and tell me what's wrong… OK. Jack hasn't come back yet?... I'm sure everything's alright… Now, no need to get yourself all upset. Jack can take care of himself… Of course, I'll come right over… No, I don't want you to go outside. Just stay inside… Yes, I'll be right over." With that, he hung up the phone and looked at the Agents. "That was Jack's wife. They heard a strange noise and he went to check it out and hasn't come back. Feel like joining me to check it out?" While it came out as a question, his tone made it clear that he expected the two men to accept his offer. The Agents put their cups down and left the house, with the Sheriff.

/SN/

Dean drove close behind Sheriff Stanley's vehicle. Even though the Sheriff was driving way above the speed limit, Dean had no trouble getting the Impala to keep up. Fortunately, they hadn't unpacked any of their gear from the trunk. The only problem may lie in finding a reason to pull that gear out, once they got to Jack's place. Sam was the one to break the silence.

"What do you think it is?"

"I'm not sure. Could be that kid and his associate came back to cause some trouble or it could be something else." Dean' stomach guiltily tightened at the thought that the boy, who had gotten away from him, might be now harming or killing some one. Dean hoped that the boy wasn't involved in whatever was now going on.

The brothers and the Sheriff quickly arrived at Jack's place. Both vehicles pulled up, in front of the house. As everyone exited the vehicles, the door to the house was opened by Pearleen.

"Pearleen, what are you doing here?" Sheriff Stanley asked the reporter, as he quickly climbed the front steps.

"Gladys called me and I came over to offer some support. She sounded terrified on the phone and was a wreck by the time I got here." Pearleen stepped aside, as all three men entered the home. "She's in the kitchen. I gave her a glass of wine, to help her nerves. Jack still hasn't returned."

The men entered the kitchen and found Gladys with her elbows propped up, on the kitchen table and her head in her hands. She looked up, as the Sheriff placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Gladys, how are you doing?"

With a pale complexion and worry lines around her eyes, Gladys looked up at the Sheriff. "Jack still isn't back. You don't think that what happened to the girl also happened to him, do you?"

"I doubt it. He'll probably be back soon. Now, what exactly made him go into the woods, at this time of night?"

"We were just about to get into bed, when we heard a loud sound. It sounded something like a scream; but, it sounded like it came from some distance away. A few seconds later, it sounded like a dog howled. I got nervous and was covered with goosebumps. Jack looked out the window; but, didn't see anything. He was still on edge, because of this morning. He told me it was probably nothing; but, he insisted that he wanted to check it out. Next thing I know, he's grabbed his rifle and gone out the front door. I waited a couple minutes, then went on the front porch and called his name. When I didn't get an answer, I called you." Gladys began to shiver and used both her hands to draw her sweater more tightly around herself. "He should be back by now, right?" Worried and tear-filled eyes looked up at Sheriff Stanley.

He gently squeezed her shoulder. "Me and these two boys are going to take a look around. Pearleen will stay here with you. You just enjoy that wine of yours and let us worry about Jack." Sheriff Stanley looked at Pearleen and with a slight nod of his head, directed her to join Gladys. He then turned his attention to the Agents. Without a word, they followed him out the front door and to his car.

"You two head off, in that direction, and I'll check over in the area where the girl was found."

"Sheriff, I think it might be better, if we all stuck together." Sam said.

Sheriff Stanley shook his head. "No, we can cover more ground this way."

"Sheriff, my partner has a point. I think it's best if we stay together. Or at least, call in one of your men and we can work in groups of two.' Dean tried to compromise.

"Now, don't let Gladys get you boys all scared about nothing. We get stray dogs around here all the time and that's probably all it is. Jack 's a hunter and he is probably tracking down the dog, as we speak."

"Sheriff, you and I both know that no dog got that girl. Jack might not be tracking some stray dog. Something may be tracking Jack." Dean said. Sheriff Stanley was a decent guy and Dean didn't want him getting in over his head.

"Something?" Sheriff asked incredulously. "You know there's always a rational reason for things that go bump in the night."

Dean was about to reply to the Sheriff's short-sighted remark, when a loud scream came from the park area, across the street. All three men focused on where the sound came from. Sheriff Stanley quickly ran towards the park. Dean and Sam ran to the Impala's trunk and pulled out some weapons. The fact that Gladys had heard a howl made them think that a werewolf might still be involved; but just to cover themselves, the brothers grabbed more than just a few extra silver bullets. In less than a minute, they were running after the Sheriff.

Sheriff Stanley entered the woods about a minute, before the brothers. Dean glanced at Sam, before his attention returned to where he was running. "Sam, stay close."

Since the moon was full and no leaves had appeared on the trees, the boys were able to make their way through the woods. Dean was able to keep the Sheriff in his sights and was happy to see the Sheriff come to a stop. Dean and Sam soon were at the Sheriff's side. He was looking around, as though he was trying to get his bearings or figure out which way to go next. All three men remained silent and scanned the area around them. They also painstakingly listened. There was no wind; so any branch that moved would only be caused by something moving. The men heard nothing but silence. Not even a nocturnal animal could be heard. Dean noticed that the Sheriff was now looking at him. Dean jerked his head in the direction of the road and Sheriff Stanley nodded his head in understanding. Dean led the way back to the road, with the Sheriff behind him, and Sam in the back. As they walked, Dean kept turning his head left to right and looked for anything unusual. It was then that he noticed the moon reflect off of something. Without explaining the change in direction, Dean led the party towards the reflection. Upon closer inspection, Dean saw that the moon had reflected off the side window of a car. Sheriff Stanley and Sam were also surprised to find a car, in the woods. Just as Dean had earlier hid the Impala from view of the road, this car was also hidden in a similar manner.

"This is Leo's car." The Sheriff remarked.

"One of your deputies?"

"Yes."

"Any reason he would be out here, at this time of night?" Sam inquired.

"None that I can think of." Before the men could say anything more, a female scream could be heard coming from Jack's house. As the men ran onto Jack's property, the Sheriff signaled the he would go around back, while the brothers took the front. Dean and Sam approached the front of the house with caution. Both men kept their eyes and ears open for any sign of movement. As they cautiously climbed the front steps, Dean noticed scratch marks covered the front door and doorframe. Upon closer inspection, Dean noticed that the front door was not completely closed and appeared to have been broken in. Dean tentatively opened the front door and allowed his eyes to adjust to the brightness inside the house. A low growl could be heard coming from somewhere in the house. Dean slowly entered the house and quickly looked around. Another growl could be heard, except this time, Dean could tell that it came from upstairs. With Sam close behind him, Dean cautiously made his way up the stairs. Once at the top, he quickly peeked around a corner and looked down the hallway. He was not totally surprised when he saw a tall, hairy werewolf at the end of the hall. Dean quickly took a step into the hall, aimed his silver bullet loaded gun and fired it twice. The bullets hit the beast squarely in the chest. With a loud, painful howl, the werewolf crumbled to the floor. Slowly, the brothers walked towards the beast, with their guns still aimed at it. A nearby door opened and Sam saw Pearleen peeking into the hall.

"Did… did you get it?" She asked Sam. However, her eyes found the beast, before Sam could reply. "Is it dead?"

"Yes. Are you ok? Where's Gladys?" Sam enquired. Although he was talking to Pearleen, he only glanced at her occasionally and kept most of his focus on the werewolf.

Pearleen seemed to lose her voice, as she watched the werewolf transform back into a person. She also seemed to temporarily forget to breathe, as she recognized the person, who now lay on the floor where the beast had just been.

Satisfied with what he saw, Dean turned back to Sam. "Sam, you stay here with her, while I check out the rest of the house. Is Gladys with you?" Dean directed his question towards Pearleen.

Realizing that some one had just spoken to her, Pearleen nodded her head and tried to collect herself. "Yes."

As Sam entered the bedroom where the two women were, he asked, "either of you hurt?"

"No."

Dean waited until Sam had closed the bedroom door, before he continued his search of the house. He quickly checked the remaining rooms upstairs and found nothing unusual. He then turned his attention back to the first floor. Gradually, he made his way down the stairs. Finding nothing unusual in the living room or dining room, Dean made his way into the kitchen. Movement, on the exterior side of the back door, caused Dean to push his back against a wall and aim his gun at the door. He heard someone trying to use the doorknob to open the door. Apparently, the door was locked and remained closed. Without warning, the door suddenly crashed in, as though some type of brutal energy had been used to force the door to open. Dean remained steady and prepared himself for whatever came in. First thing that Dean saw was a gun, which Dean soon saw was being held by the Sheriff. Not wanting the Sheriff to be too startled by his presence, Dean spoke up.

"Sheriff."

Quickly, the man looked in the direction of the voice and was obviously relieved to see Dean. "Where's your partner?"

"Upstairs with Pearleen and Gladys."

"Are they ok?"

"Yeah. You find anything outside?"

"Just the biggest wolf that I've ever seen. It took half my bullets to put the thing down."

Dean was a little startled by this revelation, since he hadn't heard any gunfire but his own. "Where was it?"

"In the garage." Sheriff Stanley took a few more steps into the kitchen and lowered his gun.

All Dean saw was a blur of fur, as the Sheriff was unexpectedly attacked from behind. The Sheriff's gun was knocked out of his hands, during the mayhem and discharged as it slid against a wall. Dean instinctively ducked, as he was uncertain which direction the gun had been facing. Dean was quick to recover, after the gun went off; however, he saw that the Sheriff was no longer in the kitchen. Dean saw a smear of blood that led out the backdoor. Dean quickly looked outside and upon not noticing any immediate threat; he stepped outside and took a couple steps to the left of the doorway. He wanted to give his eyes a chance to once again acclimate to the moonlight. As he stood there, he tentatively listened to the sounds around him. He did not hear any screams, nor any other sounds. It did not take long for his eyes to adjust and he found that he could easily see a drag mark that had smears of blood in it. He cautiously followed the track to the garage, which was twenty feet away from the house. The marks led to a side door, on the garage, which had obviously been forced open. Since the moonlight did not reach too far into the garage, Dean felt for a light switch and turned on the overhead lights. The garage had a very large interior, with room for three cars and was tall enough to provide space for a loft, above the vehicles. Dean noticed cork over much of the walls, which helped to soundproof the building. Towards the back of the garage, Dean saw the werewolf, which was dragging the Sheriff. Dean immediately took aim and fired. He hit it squarely in the chest. The beast released its hold on the Sheriff and feel backwards.

Dean quickly checked on the Sheriff, while he kept his gun aimed at the werewolf. He saw that the man had suffered a nasty blow to the head, which had apparently caused him to lose consciousness. Other than the head injury and some scratches and bumps, the Sheriff seemed to have avoided getting any obvious fatal injuries. Dean saw that the werewolf had finished its transformation back into a human. A noise from the loft caused Dean to quickly shift his attention to above his head. From where he stood, he was unable to see what was in the loft. However, it sounded as though there were two sets of footsteps moving around. Dean stealthily moved to the bottom of the steps, which led up to the loft. With his gun at the ready, Dean stood there and pondered whether or not he should ascend the stairs. Once on the stairs, Dean would make an easier target; but at the same time, he could think of no other way to find out what was up there. Luckily, the decision was made for him, as Dean saw Leo sneak a quick peek down the stairs. Leo's quick peak was almost immediately followed by him returning to the top of the stairs and looking right at Dean.

"Agent Friday?"

"Yes. Who else is up there with you?"

"Jack."

"Gladys's husband?"

At the mention of his wife's name, Jack swiftly joined Leo, at the stairs. Full of concern, he asked, "is she ok? Is my wife alright?"

"Yes, she's with my partner." As Dean was answering Jack's question, both men descended the stairs and joined Dean. Turning his attention to Leo, Dean asked, "anything else lurking about?"

"There was another monster."

"Yeah, I got that one, before I got the one in here."

Jack looked around the garage and when he didn't see the thing, he looked at Dean. "Where is it?"

Dean paused, as he figured out how to answer the question. Before Dean said anything, Leo spoke up. "It's that dead body over there isn't it?" While he had asked a question, Dean could tell that Leo seemed to already know the answer.

"Yeah, it is."

"What are you two talking about?" Jack looked very confused, as he looked from one man to the other. "That body isn't covered with fur or have ridiculously long claws."

Leo placed a hand on Jack's shoulder. "Jack, just trust me. That body belongs to a monster."

Not believing what he had been told, Jack hobbled towards the body. "That's not a monster that's Will. You killed Will?" Jack asked incredulously. As he asked his question, he took a few steps back, as though he feared that he may be next.

Leo raised his hands in a palliative manner. "Jack, you didn't see it change. Will and Walt were both monsters. I'm not saying that they did evil things. I'm saying that they turned _into_ evil things. If I didn't know any better, I would say that they turned into werewolves, like you see in the movies."

Jack took another look at Will's body. It was apparent that he couldn't wrap his mind around what he was being told. Leo went and checked on the Sheriff. As the Sheriff began to come to, Leo began to assess his boss for injuries.

Jack turned his attention back to Dean. "I want to see my wife."

With a half smile, Dean replied, "Sure thing." With that Dean and Jack went back to the house, while Leo was left to take care of Sheriff Stanley.

/SN/

Dean entered the kitchen first. He was not totally surprised to see Sam standing there with a worried look on his face.

"Sam, where's Gladys?"

"She's upstairs, in the bedroom with Pearleen." Without waiting for anything more to be said, Jack quickly limped upstairs.

"Sam, I thought I had told you to stay upstairs." Dean gently reprimanded Sam.

Sam gave a quick glance down, before he looked back up at Dean. "You did. But, I heard a gunshot. I waited a couple minutes and then tried to check on you. I called to you, from the top of the stairs and didn't get an answer. I came down to look for you and found that." Sam nodded his head in the direction of the smeared blood, which led to the back door.

Dean's expression softened as he realized where Sam's thoughts had probably gone. Hell, if he was honest with himself, he probably would have done the exact same thing himself if the roles were reversed. But, Dean wasn't going to admit that to Sam.

"Doesn't matter Sam. You're just lucky that there weren't more than two werewolves."

"Two? Where was the other one?"

"I got it in the garage." Dean saw a questioning look appear on Sam's face. "Garage is kinda soundproofed. I hadn't heard the Sheriff's gunshots, when he tried to get the thing earlier in the garage. How the ladies doing upstairs?"

"For the most part, they're ok. A bit shaken; but that's to be expected. Pearleen didn't say anything to Gladys about Walt being the werewolf. Guess I should go get the body, so we can dispose of it." Sam made his suggestion and waited for Dean's reply.

Dean bit his bottom lip, as he thought about how to handle the situation. Since the Sheriff was involved, he was considering leaving the mess for the Sheriff and getting out of town right now. While he and Sam were no longer wanted by the FBI, Dean didn't want to hang around and answer a lot of questions. Before he could tell Sam of his plan, Sheriff Stanley showed up at the backdoor. It was apparent that the Sheriff was pretty beaten up and that was made more obvious by the fact that he had his one arm around Leo's neck and was clearly relying on Leo to keep him upright. With Leo's help, Sheriff Stanley eased himself into a kitchen chair. He slowly looked at the men in the room.

"I take it you're not from the FBI." Sheriff Stanley flatly stated.

"No sir, we're not." Sam replied.

"That's good. 'Cause I would hate to see how much bureaucratic paperwork would need to be filled out on this mess." The Sheriff said with a slightly lopsided grin.

"Are… Were they really werewolves?" Leo asked the two men.

Dean simply nodded his head in reply. "Why was your car in the woods?"

"I've been following Walt off and on the past couple months. I thought he was up to something; but, I wasn't sure." When the Sheriff aimed an interrogating eye at Leo, Leo continued. "I didn't say anything, since I wasn't sure. At first, I thought that I was just imagining things. But, he just seemed different. It wasn't obvious. More like, there were just a little change in him that I just couldn't put my finger on. Last night, I followed him to the woods; but lost him in the woods. I looked almost all night and never found him. When we found the girl's body, I didn't know what to think. I mean, it was obvious that no person had done that. Then this evening, I followed Walt again to the same woods. This time, I managed to keep him in sight. He landed up freeing some strange kid who was tied to a tree, keyed your car, and then the two walked back into the woods until they got to a clearing. It was so quiet and their voices were raised, that I was able to hear them. The kid was trying to buy drugs from Walt. Walt was pissed that the kid was there and questioned him. Somehow, Will knew the family that had owned the property. A few months ago, Walt happened to run into the family's daughter in a city. Walt made it sound like they got into a fight. And he did something to the girl. Apparently, the girl told this kid something about what took place. When the kid realized that Walt was the one, who attacked the girl, the kid tried to get away. At first, he managed to get away and I continued to watch Walt. Next thing I know, he's changing right before my eyes. I just…" Leo shook his head, as he recalled what he had witnessed. It all still seemed so unbelievable. He still felt like he was stuck in some sort of nightmare. "Next thing I know, I'm no longer watching Walt but some monster. I couldn't believe my eyes. Then, I hear this god-awful scream. I see this other monster dragging the kid back to Walt. The two things just tore into the kid. I could tell the kid was dead, even before Walt touched the kid. I now know what happened to that girl and I really wish I didn't." Leo sadly shook his head. "The things were quick and were almost done ripping the kid to pieces, when I saw Jack off to the left. Up until then, I had been frozen in place. When I saw Jack, I tried to get to him. But, one of the monsters had seen him and was running towards him. I used my gun and I heard Jack fire his rifle. The thing fell and Jack and I used that opportunity to try and get out of the woods. We started back to the house; but, Jack fell and hurt his leg. So, I was helping him. At one point, I thought I heard cars pull up; however, we weren't out of the woods and I couldn't see the road. When we got closer to the house, I saw that one of the monsters had also come out of the woods and was headed our way. The garage was open; so, we went there and hoped the thing came after us, instead of going towards the house. It worked. The thing followed us into the garage. Jack and I managed to keep it from getting to us in the garage's loft. That's when Sheriff Stanley showed up and shot it. I thought it was all over, until the thing apparently left the garage and came back with the Sheriff. It was as though our guns had no lasting effect on it. If it got shot, it would slow a bit but that was it. That's why Jack and I stayed in the loft." Leo turned apologetically towards Sheriff Stanley. "If I had known how to stop it, I would have."

Sheriff Stanley knowingly shook his head. "You did the right thing staying with Jack. Civilians always come first." He then looked at Dean. "By the way, why did your gun work on the things?"

"We have experience with werewolves and use silver bullets that will kill them." Dean said proudly.

"Silver bullets? Isn't that just something in science fiction? I mean…"

"It worked, didn't it? Sure, the movies often twist the truth a bit; but sometimes, they get it right." Dean looked squarely at the Sheriff and got serious. "What do you intend to do with the bodies? Those bullet holes aren't going to be easy to explain."

Sheriff Stanley nodded his head in agreement. "I guess the only saving grace is those two don't have any more family left. The townspeople will have questions; but, I think I can come up with something they'll believe. Leo, put the bodies in my car. The school still has an old burning furnace in it. We'll just cremate them. I got a key to the school, in my office, and we can use that to get into the school building." Leo nodded his head, as Sheriff Stanley gave him the instructions.

/SN/

Pearleen entered the kitchen and found the four men talking. She immediately noticed the condition that the Sheriff was in and went to his side. "You look a mess. Let me take a look at these marks." Sheriff Stanley rolled his eyes, at the attention that she was giving to him.

"Now Pearleen, don't you go worrying yourself. I'm fine. Just got me some bruises and scratches. I got hurt worse, when old man Morton's horse decided to throw me into the rotten barbed wire fence. How's Gladys doing?"

"Fine, now that Jack is with her. He's limping a bit; but like you, swears that he's fine and it's nothing to worry about." Pearleen shook her head at the men's stubbornness. Her attention then turned to the two men, who had saved her and Pearleen from the werewolf. "Thank you boys for all that you did. Who are you?"

"I'm Dean Winchester and that's my brother Sam." Dean pointed a finger at Sam.

Pearleen stood up and gave each of them a hug and small kiss on the cheek. She looked at them and sincerely said, "Thank you."

The brothers just nodded their heads, in acknowledgement.

/SN/

Sheriff Stanley spoke up. "I appreciate all your help. I understand if you boys what to get out of town. But, my offer still stands. You're welcome to use my garage and fix up your car."

Dean thought about it. It would be a whole lot easier to work on the Impala, in a garage, than it would be to just work on it in a parking lot. With a slight smile, Dean accepted the offer. "Thanks. It shouldn't take too long to fix the damage. Then, we'll be out of here."

"The garage is unlocked." Noticing Dean's raised eyebrow, he said. "I'm the Sheriff. If someone steals something from my garage, they know that I'll be on them in no time." He replied with a conspiring smile.

Dean replied with a small smile of his own. "Come on Sam. Let's get my baby taken care of." With that, the brothers left the kitchen.

/SN/

Dean found everything he needed to fix the Impala, in the Sheriff's garage. The Sheriff wasn't kidding, when he said that his son enjoyed fixing cars. Dean easily found all the tools and equipment he needed and then some. Dean eyed the garage and its contents with a bit of jealousy.

His life didn't allow him to truly own a place, of his own. Everything he had fit into the Impala. His car was the only constant shelter, in his life. Sure, he had spent more nights sleeping in a motel than he had sleeping in the Impala. But, motels changed on almost a daily basis and the only thing that went wherever he did was the Impala. His beloved car, which had served as a refuge and had enabled him to hunt the supernatural, would soon be out of his grasp. When Dean went to hell, the Impala would no longer be there for him. As Dean lovingly ran his one hand over the car's hood, memories of fun times and bad came flooding back to him. Dean uncharacteristically stumbled back and found himself sitting on the floor, with his back against a wall. He tried to take slow, deep breaths, as the memories overwhelmed him and he found it harder and harder to breath. Not only did memories bombard him; but, thoughts about his future also caused him torment. Would he even breathe in hell? Besides pain and torture, would he feel anything else? Would he be able to remember his life? His previous actions and decisions defined who he is and what type of person he is. Would any of that matter in hell? He'd help save so many people. Would any of that matter or provide him any comfort in hell?

John has raised him to be a soldier and had prepared him to hunt supernatural things. John hadn't prepared him for hell. When John had escaped from hell, he hadn't said a word to Dean. Surely, John had to have known where Dean would be going. Why hadn't his father said something to prepare him?! His father's last words, before he died, had only told Dean that he might have to kill his brother. What kind of advice was that?! John knew he was going to die and he tells his son that? He knew that his father could be a cold bastard, at times; but to treat his own son like that…

Dean felt immense pressure building up behind his eyes. He rarely shed a tear, let alone cried. Yet now, it seemed like his eyes were about to explode from the amount of tears that had never been shed and those that were now adding to the collection. Dean pressed the palms of his hands against his eyes and created a dam. He didn't deserve the luxury of crying. If he didn't deserve a home of his own, then he definitely didn't deserve to cry. Although, a part of him was more concerned that he would land up drowning in his own tears and he didn't want to die just yet. Dean forced himself to take some normal breathes. He once again forced the tears back. A part of him wondered if all those saved up tears would be enough to extinguish the fire in hell and thereby offer him some relief. Yeah right, since when were Winchesters ever that lucky? A lopsided grin slowly creeped onto Dean's face and he began to feel more like himself. He slowly stood up, brushed himself off, and began to work on the car.

/SN/

Sam sat at the kitchen table, in the Sheriff's house, and cleaned the guns. Dean had said that he would fix the Impala and had assigned Sam the job of weapon maintenance. All their gear was packed and once the Impala was ready, they would be back on the road. Compared to other cases, this case hadn't been that bad. The rose bush scratches and punctures aside, both brothers were relatively unharmed. Yet, Sam didn't feel the relief that he normally felt after a successful hunt.

Dean would soon be going to hell and Sam still had not found a way to save him. Sam's heart tightened at the thought of losing his brother. Why was Dean being punished like this? Sam was the one who had turned his back on Jake. Sam had let his guard down and been stabbed in the back. Dean shouldn't have to pay for Sam's slip. Sam sadly hung his head and shook it. Once again, Dean had taken the family's problems onto his own shoulders and had sacrificed himself for the family. Why did his brother feel the need to use himself as the family's shield? But if Sam was honest with himself, he knew how much comfort he got from knowing that Dean was there protecting his family. How many times had Sam watched as Dean was the first to run into a dangerous situation? How many times had Dean so willingly put himself in danger, in order to protect Sam? Sam became enraged and slammed his fist onto the table. Dam it! It was all his own fault. All those years, Sam had been taught to stay behind Dean. And stay behind him, he had. Even though he was taller than Dean, Sam still seemed to easily find shelter in his brother's shadow. Sam felt tears begin to slide down his face.

Thanks to the trickster, Sam knew what it was like to live without Dean. Looking back, Sam actually feared the person he had become, during that time. Sam had become like a robot, like a body without a soul. He hadn't felt anything. He just went from one hunt to the next and preformed his duty. Dean may be a solider; but, he at least remembered to enjoy life between hunts and sometimes during them. Sam, on the other hand, had stopped enjoying life and had become more like a guided missile system. During Dean's death, Sam would pick a target, focus on it, hunt it down, and then destroy it. He never felt anything, not even satisfaction from a completed hunt. Instead, he would simply reset himself and find a new target and begin the whole process again. Sam felt shivers go down his back. He didn't know what would be worse becoming like that again, or having the demon blood turn him into something evil.

He could never tell Dean about these thoughts. Dean had enough to deal with. No, these thoughts and concerns needed to remain his own. Sam couldn't hide in Dean's shadow any more. He needed to stand in the open and learn to deal with whatever was thrown his way. Sam felt his shoulders lower, as he accepted this invisible burden onto them. He had to become stronger than he had ever been. Sam looked down and was surprised to see that he had finished cleaning the weapons. He had been so lost in thought, that he hadn't realized how much time had passed. Previous training and experience had made weapon cleaning second nature to him and had not required intense attention on his part. Sam glanced at the clock and noticed the time. Sheriff Stanley hopefully had finished burning the bodies by now and would be doing whatever else he needed to do, in order to hide the death of Walt and Will. Sam got up and looked through the kitchen, to see what he could find. He wasn't the best cook; but, he could make a simple breakfast.

/SN/

Sam was about to enter the garage, with breakfast. He stopped, in the doorway, and watched Dean. Dean was obviously making some finishing touches on the Impala. Sam watched as Dean's hands gently buffed the car. Those were the same hands, which just yesterday, had been tending to Sam's minor injuries. Those same hands had fired a gun and killed two werewolves. Those same hands had always been there offering support for Sam. In a few short months, those hands would no longer be there to do any of those things ever again. Sam shook his head to clear his mind. Those kinds of thoughts wouldn't do, for right now. Instead, Sam focused on the fact that Dean was still here and was still alive.

Dean's nose had obviously caught a whiff of the food, which Sam had brought. He quickly put his tools down and wiped his hands, on his pants. With his hungry eyes ravenously eyeing the food on the plate, Dean approached his brother.

"Looks good." Dean took the offered plate and sat down. Before taking a bite, he said. "I'm almost down here. After I eat this, I'll only need about 15 more minutes and will be ready to hit the road."

/SN/

Pearleen continued to be teased by the blank screen. She had done some research on the internet. She had been surprised to see that the Winchester brothers had been wanted by the FBI and were now "dead". Although, since they had saved her life and spoken to her, she knew that they weren't really dead. She decided that she didn't want to use their names in her article, since she felt that they might prefer to remain anonymous. As she contemplated how to begin her article, there was a knock at her door. She went to the door and looked through the peephole. She saw a woman and young girl outside her door. She didn't recognize them; but, knew that a new family, who she hadn't met yet, had moved in down the street from her. Not wanting to appear un-neighborly, she opened the door.

"Hello."

"Hi." The woman replied.

"Can I help you?"

"You were the one researching the Winchesters on the internet, right?" The young girl unexpectedly said.

Pearleen was totally caught off guard by the question and became every uneasy. She hadn't told any one of her research and wondered how the girl knew about it.

"Amazing how easily things can be tracked on the internet. Without the right safeguards, some one can easily track down who is researching a certain topic or a certain set of brothers." The girl remarked with an evil grin. "Where are those Winchester boys?"

Pearleen took a step back and tried to close the door. However, the young girl put her hand up and some how kept the door from closing. Pearleen then tried to run; but, she found herself suddenly pressed against a wall by some invisible force. Pearleen helplessly watched as the young girl and woman entered her home.

"Where are they?" The girl asked again, except her tone made it clear that she would not tolerate a wrong answer.

Pearleen felt like she was going to be sick. She had been afraid of the werewolf; but, the girl before her caused her to feel terrified. "I… I don't know."

Lilith raised her hand again, her eyes turned white, and a bright yellow light engulfed Pearleen. When the light dissipated, a pile of ash remained where Pearleen had just been.


End file.
